


Layers

by ddelusionall



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Bondage, Crossdressing, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23929894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddelusionall/pseuds/ddelusionall
Summary: Yoochun is buried deep beneath the persona of "Lick Me Micky".
Relationships: Jung Yunho (DBSK)/Park Yoochun, Park Yoochun/Shim Changmin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Layers

**Author's Note:**

> I am importing my stories from LiveJournal. The original fic can be found [here](https://be-ddelusionall.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I haven't read this story in a long time, so I may have missed some tags. Just let me know if I did.

Yoochun scrutinized his blank face in the mirror. Clean, scarred, free of makeup. He didn’t like this face. Carefully, he applied a layer, and then another layer and then another, making his skin paler than necessary. In the lights from the stage, his skin and face would look almost white. He put on bright red lipstick, black eyeliner and heavy mascara.

Looking and feeling more like himself, Yoochun stood up and left the brightly lit vanity. An array of clothes hung on a single metal rod, and Yoochun ran his hands over the soft cotton and sometimes silk garments. The lights soaked into his skin, turning it translucent, making it appear paler than normal. The lights from the stage would do the same thing.

Yoochun sat on the soft divan and reached into the small chest of drawers. He retrieved his newest pair of floral stockings.

Carefully he rolled them up his smooth legs, the tops settling at midthigh. In the bottom drawer were his garters, and he slipped it over his legs and up his slim hips. He hooked them to the top of the nylons, one hook going down the middle of his thigh and the other curling around the curve of his ass. He did not put on underwear, just a short pleated black skirt where the hem hit right at his hip bones.

He ran a hand down his flat stomach and mentally made a note to skip a few more meals.

“Yoochun,” a voice behind him said.

Yoochun did not turn around, nor was he surprised when hot, large hands cupped his ass. His boss moaned in his ear and squeezed. Lips trailed down his neck to his bare back.

“No matter how many times I see you naked, I can’t get over how beautiful you are.”

“Thank you, Changmin-shi.”

“You can thank me from your knees after your show. I’m sure I’ll be hard and ready to come all over your pretty face.”

Yoochun fought a shiver, and moved his hips, just a little. Changmin’s hands gripped his ass tighter.

“And your rent is due, if you want to stay in your room, so don’t let too many men fuck you tonight.” There was a nasty slurp behind him and a wet finger ran up the cleft of Yoochun’s ass and pressed into his body.

Yoochun moaned for his boss.

“I want your ass nice and tight.”

“Yes, Changmin-shi.”

The finger slipped out of him, and Changmin slapped his ass and his body heat moved away. “You’re on in ten minutes.”

Yoochun nodded and whispered his thanks for the reminder. He moved to his full length mirror and analyzed every inch of his skin. There was a bruise near his hip from Changmin’s coffee table when Yoochun had been bent over it, paying his portion of the electric bill. He covered it with foundation. There was a hicky on his back, in a spot that proved almost too tricky to reach, but he did, stretching and turning his arms. His ribs jutted out in the mirror, and Yoochun ignored how frail he looked and glared at the curve of a muscle on his upper stomach.

Pretty, frail. In control.

“Hello, gentleman,” Changmin’s voice crooned from the stage, Yoochun’s cue to get ready to go on stage.

He grabbed a flowing, sheer black top with small sequins embedded in the arms, back and hood. He flipped it up, and then as a final piece, he put a black veil over his mouth. He twisted and found every flaw in his body, every nuance and scar that marked him as imperfect. That made him ugly. Unworthy.

The small crowd of men laughed.

“I will stop talking now,” Changmin said, “because I know that’s not why you have paid a lot of money to sit in those seats.”

Yoochun moved down the short hallway, paused at the darkened entrance and slipped on a pair of pointy toed, high heels.

“Please welcome, for your enjoyment, our main attraction, Lick Me Micky.”

Yoochun shut his eyes, inhaled and stepped out into the glare to as loud as an applause of only a few men could be. He smiled at Changmin and winked when Changmin pinched his ass under the skirt.

Changmin handed him the microphone.

“Hello, gentleman,” Yoochun said, his voice low and deep.

They cheered and Yoochun moved to the stool in the middle of the stage. He sat, legs spread, showing them that there was nothing under the skirt but his dick. They cheered again. He surveyed the crowd past the bright lights and noticed a few regulars just from their body shapes.

“How many of you are first-timers tonight?” Yoochun asked.

Of the twenty or so men, about half raised their hands.

“Welcome, welcome. I love meeting new toys.”

The regulars laughed.

Yoochun glanced over the crowd again and picked his target. “When I was younger,” he paused to let them cheer for a second; they loved stories of when he was a teenager, “When I was younger, my best friend would always tell me I was gay. Well, yeah, I knew that. Being a gay teenage boy is never easy, so one day, I asked him what I had to do to be straight. He shrugged and said that I should stop wearing my tiara to school.”

The men laughed.

“I looked up at him, stopped stroking his cock, because that’s where I was, kneeling between his legs—“ The men hooted in approval –“and said that I could do that, but I was glad that I didn’t have to stop sucking on his cock.”

They laughed again.

“Turns out, I should have ditched him and kept the tiara,” Yoochun said and stood up. He walked around the stage, staying sideways so the men could see his tiny waist amid the flowing clothes. He sighed dramatically into the microphone, sensually, and said, “He had the audacity to get himself a girlfriend.”

The men protested.

“I know,” Yoochun said, and bent his back, arm reaching up, he turned his head and shot the men a coy, sexy look. “He gave up access to this.”

The men cheered and Yoochun smirked at their suggestive shouts. Yoochun pulled off the flowing top and let it flutter to the stage. A few moments later, music pulsed around the room, and Yoochun twirled, skirt flying up and showing off the garters and his dick. He still wasn’t hard, but that would change. It had to change.

Amidst their cries and offers, Yoochun sank down on the edge of the stage. He spread his legs, but kept his hands between them, holding the skirt down.

The men playfully booed at him and Yoochun smirked, and then laughed. He threw his head back, showing off his collar bones, his neck, his shoulders. And then he leaned back on his hands. He slowly lifted his legs, and hooked the heels onto the edge of his stage.

This part of his show was different every time. Sometimes he bent over the chair, sometimes he kneeled in the middle of the stage.

He lay down completely, put his legs together and then lifted them up, giving the men a shot at his ass. He shifted, using the stage to spread himself open. He let his longer fingers dance up and down the back of his thigh.

The volume of the music dropped and Yoochun brought the mic to his lips and said, “One of you … which one of you … who wants me?” His finger touched his entrance and all the men said they wanted him, but Yoochun already knew and he thought of that man, sitting reserved near the corner. All he knew so far was that he wore a suit and had stylish hair. He also knew that he hadn’t cheered at all while Yoochun was on stage.

A challenge.

It’d been so long since he’d had a challenge.

But, every man in the room knew what was going to happen, they knew before they walked in the door. And that meant they agreed.

Yoochun pressed his fingertip into his body and hissed into the microphone, he spread his legs again, put his feet on the stage and then lifted his hips, fucking his finger, until it was up to his knuckle inside him.

The men were cheering him on.

Yoochun moaned into the microphone and made it look like he couldn’t quite stop teasing himself, rolling his finger around his entrance. He slipped his finger over his ass, knowing that it left a wet gleaming strip, and then he sat up. His cock was perfectly erect now, sticking out of the skirt. He wrapped his hand around it and titled his head back, stroking just a few times. He squeezed the base, making a face, making it seem like he was about come and holding off.

He hadn’t come that quick since his first show, and Changmin would not hesitate to beat him if he came too soon again.

Yoochun put his feet on the floor and rolled off the stage, easily standing in the heels. He paraded around the men, smiling and touching them and teasing them with words that meant nothing to him. He made three circuits, riling them up, sitting in their laps and even making one of them come in his pants. It is what he did. It was what he was good at.

Finally, he made his way again over to his target, the only man who had yet to touch him. Another sign that he was indeed a perfect mark.

Yoochun straddled his lap and frowned at him. He put his arm around the man’s neck and said, “Why haven’t you touched me?”

The man’s answer rang through the crowd. “You are too beautiful to be treated this way.”

The other men booed at him.

Yoochun grinned and rocked his hips. The man’s cock was only half hard. The man was older than he looked, with hair graying at the temples. He had a firm body, and he’d probably been gorgeously ripped with muscles when he was younger. Now they were fading. The man still went to the gym, but he probably spent too much time in the office. Drank too much alcohol. Didn’t get enough sex.

Yoochun slid off his lap and landed on his knees, between the man’s legs. “You don’t want to touch me?” he said, finger playing with the zipper of his pants.

“Not like this,” he replied.

Yoochun threw his head back and laughed. “That’s okay. I can work with your reluctance.”

Yoochun used the man’s knees to stand up, and then he sat on his firm, thick thigh and rutted against it. In the microphone he said, “I hope all of you is this hard, thick and firm.”

The men jeered.

Yoochun smirked at his target and asked, “What’s your name?”

The man was silent, but again, he knew the rules just like everyone else. There was no guarantee who Yoochun would choose, but you could not refuse.

Yoochun lowered the microphone, sort of as a promise that his identity would be only for Yoochun to know. That is until he went onstage. Most of the men here knew each other. That’s one reason why it was a safe place to act out your fantasies. No man would say they saw someone here because that meant they’d admit that they were here too.

Yoochun was a guilty pleasure. And a secret.

“Jung Yunho,” he finally said, and Yoochun didn’t bother to mask his surprise.

Give it up to Changmin for luring in one of the most powerful businessmen in Korea.

“Pleasure,” Yoochun said, still just for Yunho to hear.

Yunho shook his head, arms finally snaking around his waist. “A pleasure would be you in a bed, writhing beneath me and begging me for more.”

Yoochun shivered at the tone.

“And by you, I mean, Yoochun and not Micky.”

Yoochun barely concealed his shock. No one was supposed to know his name. No one.

“I think we’ve kept these men waiting long enough,” Yoochun said into the microphone. He climbed off Yunho’s lap and then gripped his tie. He yanked on it, turned and trusted Yunho to keep up with him. Jung Yunho was tall, and walked with confidence, even when being led through a group of horny men at the hands of a cross-dressing prostitute.

Pausing at one of the other men, Yoochun let go of his captive. Teasingly, he ran his hands around the man’s neck and tugged on his tie. “Can I borrow this?”

The man nodded frantically.

Yoochun smirked and loosened the tie and pulled it over his head. He gave the man a kiss for his troubles, and then asked who else would volunteer their tie for a kiss?

The men clamored for his attention. Yoochun smiled at them all, and purposely brushed up against Yunho, over and over again as he gathered four more ties, just in case. He looped them all over his neck, adding to his scanty wardrobe.

With one more smirk at Yunho, who looked beyond pissed off, Yoochun grabbed his tie again and finished leading him to the stage.

“Sit,” Yoochun said and pointed to the chair.

Yunho sat. The lights went dark and a single light illuminated Yunho. In the dark, Yoochun went to stage left, and Changmin yanked him over by the ties.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” Changmin growled in his ear, stroking his cock with one hand and cupping his ass with the other.

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be?” Yoochun countered.

Changmin growled again and rolled their bodies together.

Yoochun cut off a moan and pushed away from him. He handed him the microphone, and Changmin gave him condom and a lube.

“You set this up,” Yoochun said. “You knew I’d choose him. Why?”

Changmin smirked. “It never hurts to have a powerful business man in your debt.”

“Blackmail.”

“Precisely. You’re smart for a hooker.”

“You’re smart for a bastard.”

Yoochun turned before Changmin could respond, but he knew he’d be paying for that later.

Yoochun thought about how he wanted to do this. He stepped into the circle of light, behind Yunho, and the men cheered. Yunho turned to look at him. Their eyes met and Yoochun held his gaze for a long time. And then remembered he had a show to do. He smiled and pulled one of the ties off his neck. He trailed the end over Yunho’s face and neck and then put it over his eyes. He cinched the knot and then tied it tightly. Yoochun didn’t usually blindfold his playthings, but Yunho’s _accusing knowing whatever_ gaze was getting to him.

He draped his arms over Yunho’s strong shoulder and licked his ear, grinning when Yunho shivered. He ran his hands over Yunho’s chest and stomach. He’d been right and he rubbed the sagging muscles. God, Yoochun wished he’d met Yunho ten years ago. His body would have been cut like an Adonis statue.

With deft fingers, he unbuttoned Yunho’s properly pressed shirt, and then flirted his fingertips up and down his chest. He twisted around him, and laughed at nothing. Part of the act. He rubbed his body all over Yunho’s.

He dropped to his hands and knees and took another tie off his neck. He tied Yunho’s feet to the chair, and then tied his hands behind the chair.

Yunho’s chest was heaving with labored breaths.

The men were given a safe word and then told that they’d be banned from the club if they used it. Only one man had used it, and Yoochun hadn’t even done anything to that man.

He waited for Yunho to whisper the word, but his mouth stayed shut, nostrils flaring with his breathing.

Yoochun spread Yunho’s shirt open. His chest was slightly hairy and Yoochun ran his fingers through it, up and down to his belly button and back up to his collarbones. He spread the shirt more, and then moved to behind Yunho again. He leaned against him in such a way that his tied hands had access to his dick, and Yunho finally touched him, curling his hand around Yoochun’s length and pumping as much as his tied position let him.

Yoochun moaned, loudly enough that the audience could hear. He let his hands trail down Yunho’s shirt and fisted his tie. He sucked on Yunho’s neck, rocking into his hand and then pulled away reluctantly from the red mark on his skin.

Yoochun pulled the tie off and then pushed the shoulders of the shirt down, barring Yunho’s entire chest to the audience.

With a grin into the bright light, Yoochun upended the bottle of lube and dumped it down each side of Yunho’s chest. Yunho shivered.

Yoochun let the gleaming liquid drip for a moment and then dropped the bottle with a clatter and his hands followed the wet trails, stopping at Yunho’s nipples.

Yoochun played with both of them, running his fingers over them, cupping the obvious droop of muscle gone to waste. He pinched the nipples and played with them, rolling the nubs in his fingers. Yunho’s mouth opened in a silent moan, and his hands found Yoochun’s erection again. Yoochun kissed up his neck.

He stuck his tongue in Yunho’s ear and whispered, “Still fucking sexy, and your dick is so hard. I can’t wait to ride it, right here, in front of everyone.”

Yunho licked his lips.

“Kiss me.”

Yunho turned his head, and their tongues touched and the kiss was sloppy and desperate. Yoochun splayed his hands on Yunho’s chest and gripped, fingers clenching and groping the giving flesh.

With a gasp, Yoochun ripped his mouth away and spun to the front of the chair. He took off the last two borrowed ties and then straddled Yunho’s lap and rubbed his bare chest on Yunho’s slick skin. He rocked his hips, knowing the audience could see his ass under the skirt. He moaned and hooked a knee on Yunho’s shoulder before reaching around himself and teasing his entrance again with slick fingers.

Yunho turned his head and kissed all over Yoochun’s stocking-clad thigh, making Yoochun shiver in real lust. It’d definitely been a long time since that happened. Yoochun sank his finger inside himself, as far as he could in this angle, and then added a second one. He wanted Yunho’s cock inside him. Now.

The only thing that stopped him was his audience. He had a show.

Reluctantly, he removed his fingers and then climbed off Yunho’s lap. He didn’t go far though and reached forward, sucking a lube-covered nipple into his mouth.

Yunho’s moan echoed in the room, and Yoochun smirked and bit down, making the man cry out. Yoochun played with the other nipple, twisting it and pinching it. He switched, back and forth, until both nipples were pink and blossoming with marks that promised to be bruises.

Yoochun curled his hand around the muscle, cupping it like he would the breast of a woman and then he sucked on the nipple lightly, squeezing, kneading.

Yunho’s hard cock dug into his chest, and Yoochun had no qualms about rubbing up on it.

“Micky, Micky, stop, please,” Yunho begged loudly.

Yoochun was disappointed and grateful that Yunho hadn’t used his real name. “Why?”

Yunho jerked his hips up.

“You might come, just from me abusing your breasts?”

Yunho blushed, actually blushed, and Yoochun chuckled. Good. Humiliate him a little.

Yoochun continued to kiss the nipples and play with his very sweat-slicked skin. With a smirk over his shoulder at the audience, Yoochun fell to his knees between Yunho’s spread legs and rubbed his dirty, wet hands over Yunho’s very expensive pants. He spread his hands in a triangle over the sizable bulge and then leaned down and mouthed it. He spread his legs and jutted his ass out, showing his body off. His fingers easily opened the clasp and lowered the zipper and Yoochun continued his torture through the thin material of Yunho’s boxers.

Yunho squirmed in the chair, pulling against the restraints.

Yoochun lifted his hands and played with Yunho’s nipples again.

The men cried for more, begged and demanded it.

Yoochun definitely wanted more. He pulled Yunho’s cock out of the opening of boxers and easily took it down his throat. With his other hand, he pressed two fingers into his ass, giving himself just a little preparation and the audience a show. Yoochun let Yunho’s cock slip out of his mouth with a dirty slurp.

“Someone have a condom?” Yoochun asked and turned to face the audience.

They scrambled and more than ten condoms landed on the stage.

Yoochun laughed. He left his captive and crawled around the stage, showing off his thin body, back arching, catlike, sensual. He made it seem like he was deciding on which condom to use. He picked up a couple looked at them and put them back down. Like it really mattered.

Finally, he found one that was bright pink, and he smirked and held it up. “Definitely this one. To go with the man’s boobs, yes?”

The men laughed, and Yoochun turned back to his captive.

Yunho’s mouth was open, whole body flush. His cock, thankfully, was still hard and leaking on his nice pants.

Yoochun hummed in appreciation and lifted it up, sucked the precome off and let his tongue linger before pulling back. A string of spit glistened in the bright light and broke.

“Please, please,” Yunho moaned, and then almost screamed it, demanded it. And Yoochun wondered how much of it was faked.

Yoochun ripped open the condom and slipped it over Yunho’s dick. He shimmied out of the skirt, and then turned around and rubbed his ass on Yunho’s lap. Yunho whimpered, and that wasn’t faked. Yoochun turned again and sat on Yunho’s lap. With a hand between his legs, Yoochun held Yunho up, and moaned and sat and took Yunho into his body, to the hilt, all at once. He sat there, twisting his hips to adjust and then used Yunho’s neck and shoulders to lift himself up and down. He shut his eyes tightly, enjoying this way too much.

“Fuck,” Yoochun whispered in his ear.

Yunho shivered. “I need to hold you.”

“I just need your cock.”

Yunho frowned and Yoochun forced a kiss to his lips, moaning and speeding up. He rode Yunho fast, rushing himself to an orgasm. Yunho made his brain think about things he wasn’t supposed to think about during a show. Soft kisses, soft blankets under his back, steady movements, whispered concerns and love. Waking up, wrapped up in these strong arms.

Yoochun could never have any of that.

He ripped his mouth away from Yunho’s with a whimper. He used his flexibility and the chair to flip around on Yunho’s lap without his cock slipping from his body. He put the heels of the shoes on the arms, and bent his knees, leaned back on Yunho’s firm body and moved, thrusting up, lifting up and down, over and over.

Yunho’s breath gasped in his ear, and then he whispered, “I want my arms around you. I want to hold you while you ride me. I want my hand around your cock, denying your pleasure until I say you can come. I want to squeeze you so hard that I leave bruises on your hips, and fuck walking, you won’t even be able to get out of bed after I’m done fucking you.”

Every word broke down another layer of his control, another anguished moan, another tear almost spilling from his eye.

Yoochun whimpered, cock bouncing, and he lifted a shaking hand to it, stroking in time with his movements. His legs were straining, muscles burning, but he didn’t want to move, lose access to Yunho’s voice.

“If I were in charge of this, you wouldn’t be stroking your cock. You wouldn’t have to.”

Yoochun tensed, slammed his hips down and pulsed his hips in time to the radiating force of his orgasm. He pointed his cock away from himself and cried out, whimpering from the first spurt of come that splattered across the stage to the final pulse that dripped over his fingers before ripping to the spot between Yunho’s feet.

The men were cheering, and Yunho kissed his sweaty neck.

“Beautiful,” Yunho whispered, and it snapped Yoochun out of the moment, and he put his feet on the floor. He moaned, rolling his hips, grinning at his audience.

“What do you say?” Yoochun shouted, and they quieted. “Did our captive perform well enough that I should finish him off?”

The men cheered, and Yoochun smirked. He spun around and dropped to his knees and sucked Yunho’s condom-clad cock into his mouth and down his throat.

Yunho moaned, head thrown back. He thrust into Yoochun’s mouth as much as he could in that position, and Yoochun went for efficient, not teasing. It worked, and Yoochun felt Yunho fill the condom only a few minutes later.

Yoochun pulled away and smirked up at Yunho. He pulled the condom off, not worrying when some of the mess dripped onto Yunho’s pants.

He stood up, held out the condom and asked, “Whose is this one? Do you want it back?”

The men laughed, and Yoochun dropped the condom. He made sure he was at a good angle, hips jutted out, knee bent. He brought his finger up to his mouth and licked the come from it. “Thanks, boys,” Yoochun said, smirking at the audience. “Until next time.”

The lights when dark and the men begged Micky to come back. Shaking uncontrollably, he strode past Yunho in the chair and went to the back hallway. Someone would let him loose.

Yoochun didn’t make it far, just a few steps before hands were around his waist and a hot mouth he knew well against his ear.

“Pretty show. What happened?”

“Ask Jung Yunho,” Yoochun whispered.

Changmin bit his neck. “I’m asking you.”

“Nothing,” Yoochun spat and tried to wiggle free. But Changmin was a lot stronger than he was.

Changmin chuckled. “You owe me big time.”

“Why?” Yoochun asked before he could stop himself.

“Because you just had sex with my boyfriend in front of a room full of people.”

Yoochun froze and then shut his eyes. He should have known.

“Did Yunho’s talk of love and affection turn you on? Did you believe him? Did you wish you could—“

“Fuck you,” Yoochun said and lashed out with the high heel, catching Changmin in the shin. He only managed to stagger a few steps before an enraged Changmin threw him up against the wall, face first. Yoochun shut his eyes, sobbing uncontrollably. He wasn’t surprised when Changmin’s cock was suddenly sliding in and out of his body. Yoochun didn’t fight him, spread his arms and his legs, and waited until Changmin’s release was dripping down his thighs.

“I always enjoy watching your show,” Changmin said and wrapped his hand in his long hair. Yoochun lifted his hands to relieve the pressure, and staggered next to Changmin. “Watching you fall apart and cry is way more satisfying though. You think you're worth more than this? More than what I let you have? You're an ungrateful slut."

He threw Yoochun to the small couch in the dressing room, and Yoochun gripped a battered cushion and did his best not to cry while paying Changmin his dues.


End file.
